There's A Greif That Can't Be Spoken
by TheOddOne
Summary: A "what if?" songfic to "Empty Chairs, Empty Tables." A sort of war protest.


My first Gundam Wing fic.O.O. So please flame me. This is rather angst-y. The first part takes place after the time the gundam pilots first united, and then several years after the war.  
  
/There's a grief that can't be spoken  
  
There's a pain goes on and on  
  
Empty chairs at empty tables  
  
Now my friends are dead and gone/.  
  
Smoke billowed from a small part of an abandoned colony, a small part thick with the chaos of fire and wreakage. Somewhere in the middle of it, a wounded soldier lay. The blood and ash that matted his hair completely hid it's deep brown hue. Blue eyes barely opened, and shut again. His chest rose and fell.slowly, then more steadily. "I'm.alive." His thoughts stated shortly. He struggled to sit up and examine his surroundings.  
  
Blood. Through the heavy smoke, he could make out blood. And.something shining in the dim light of the fire..something small, silver. He picked up the tiny object and examined it closely.  
  
A silver cross.  
  
All around him, the five gundams lay in burning fragments. Four dead soldiers lay with them.  
  
/Here they talked of revolution  
  
Here it was they lit the flame  
  
Here they sang about 'tomorrow'  
  
And tomorrow never came/  
  
So long ago, that night. He had tried so hard to forget the red sky.the smoke.the smell of blood. An image that he had witnessed a thousand times, but never had it so troubled him. So he had to forget, there was a war to be fought. But even when the war was over, he found himself drawn to their final meeting place. A small base, nothing exceptional. The pain it provoked, however, could not be measured. "Strange," he thought, "that I should feel.so sad. We always knew we could die-that we all probably would die. That's why we were so invincible. We fought to die. Only..I suppose.not invincible enough. And now, these chairs are empty."  
  
/From the table in the corner  
  
They could see a world reborn  
  
And they rose with voices ringing  
  
I can hear them now  
  
The very words that they had sung  
  
Became their last communion  
  
On the lonely barricade at dawn!/  
  
Here, at this table, was where they first came together, really unified. Once come together, there was a spark they created, an incredible surge of power that would not be silenced. Only time could have stopped them.  
  
He sits down slowly at the lengthy, narrow table. If he closed his eyes, he could almost hear them talking. Joking, planning their next move. They would change the world. They were going to bring a new era to humanity. But no matter how long he closed his eyes, there was something that could not be revived, even in his memory. Quatre wasn't laughing. Trowa wasn't smiling. Wufei wasn't throwing in a short comment, and Duo wasn't joking. They weren't looking ahead at the shining future that could have risen from a jaded past. All that they had been, a light that burned out before it even had a chance to shine.  
  
Their words of tomorrow became their last come morning. Their light had been stolen, smashed, leaving nothing behind but embers and blood.  
  
/Oh my friends, my friends, forgive me  
  
That I live and you are gone.  
  
There's a grief that can't be spoken  
  
There's a pain goes on and on/  
  
"Could they forgive me.for living today? Could they forgive the ashes of a dream that I hold to as my only life? There is a pain I never thought possible.that you left behind." His thoughts stop short.  
  
He is lost in the morning of so long ago.they are still fighting. No matter how the world's heart tears with undying grief, they aren't retreating. Five pilot soar through the sky, expertly fighting a thousand troops in a million flashes of light. Until one fatal blast.they are alive for one more moment, and then.  
  
/Phantom faces at the window  
  
Phantom shadows on the floor  
  
Empty chairs at empty tables  
  
Where my friends will meet no more./  
  
His eyes snap open, and the raw edge of memory fades to a dull throb. The ghosts do not leave. They make the whole room sickeningly haunted, never quite letting the images of them go. The empty chairs.just the empty chairs are a brutal reminder that they once lingered and do not any longer. The laughter, the dream, are never coming back. And to these chairs his friends shall return no more. The chairs will always be empty, no matter how many people sit in the.  
  
/Oh my friends, my friends, don't ask me  
  
What your sacrifice was for  
  
Empty chairs at empty tables  
  
Where my friends will sing no more./  
  
For once, for one brief moment in his life, the perfect soldier closes his eyes, and sees all the battles, sees all the war, and thinks. "How..pointless."  
  
Heero walks out of the base, not looking back. There is no point, when there is nothing left of them but empty chairs at an empty table, phantoms and cold silence.  
  
"What did you die for?. Can you imagine.all the reasons we had have become jaded and unclear before this empty table, when you are dead." 


End file.
